The virgin’s home

She came to Manila from Mexico as the guardian of the galleons plying the dangerous Acapulco-Manila route and it was under her mantle of safety that the brave sailors of six ships survived journeys fraught with risk.

It was by virtue of her miraculous protection of the galleons that the Virgin of Acapulco became the Virgin of Antipolo and earned the epithet Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage.

Now, the little church that she claimed as her shrine has grown into a cathedral and, on the 50th anniversary of its dedication as the National Shrine of Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage, the Antipolo Cathedral is a beautiful house of worship that is rarely empty.

A constant stream of people come to the Antipolo Cathedral to have their vehicles blessed, a constant stream of cars, SUVs, scooters, motorcycles, even the occasional bicycle.

Says shrine rector Msgr. Rigoberto de Guzman, "People come here everyday to have their vehicles blessed or to pray for themselves and loved ones. We are open every day, usually until late at night. People come to pray to be cured of illnesses, for their travels– especially if they want to work abroad–or to make requests of the Virgin." Many of the devotees also come to thank the Virgin for prayers granted.

The Antipolo Cathedral is the oldest national shrine in the country. "Becoming a national shrine entails stringent requirements," Bishop Gabriel Reyes of the Diocese of Antipolo says. "Our shrine was so named by the Archbishop of Manila and by Rome. Many miracles are ascribed to the Brown Virgin and she attracts many devotees because she grants their prayers."

Devotees make their pilgrimage to Antipolo on foot from Quiapo Church in Manila, the famous Antipolo pilgrimage that takes place on Maundy Thursday each year, as hundreds, maybe even thousands, make the long, uphill trek to the cathedral, praying as they walk.

The devotion to the Virgin of Antipolo is an old one, predating Sumulong Highway and other roads leading to Antipolo City.

"In the old days, devotees would come here by hamaca (hammock) because there were no roads," parish priest Fr. Reynante Tolentino says, adding that "it was even mentioned by national hero Jose Rizal in his novel Noli Me Tangere".

A typical pilgrimage then, Reyes says, "would take weeks. So the residents of Antipolo got used to renting their homes out during the pilgrimage season to out-of-town devotees."

The tale of Nuestra Señora dela Paz y Buen Viaje is as rich in legend, tradition and miracles as her many outfits adorned with gold thread, embroidery and beads.

On the Feast of the Annunciation in 1626, the galleon Almirante arrived with Governor-General Juan Nito de Tabora, who brought with him an image of the Virgin of Acapulco carved from dark hardwood.

Her arrival at the San Ignacio church in the Walled City of Intramuros was saluted with cannons and bells. De Tabora died in 1632 and, in his will, entrusted the brown image to the Jesuit order.

Antipolo parish priest Fr. Pedro Chirino, S.J. brought the Brown Virgin to the Sta. Cruz church there. It was said that the virgin twice disappeared from the altar and was found in the branches of a tipulo tree. The Jesuits then ordered that a church be built in the vicinity of the tree to prevent the image from vanishing again. The tree was cut and from its trunk was carved the virgin’s pedestal.

In 1639, a Chinese revolt erupted and rioters set fire to the church where the Antipolo cathedral now stands. When the virgin and her pedestal did not burn, the rioters attacked her with spears and she still bears the scars of those attacks on her face to this day.

The national guard rescued the virgin and the Spanish governor-general ordered that the image be transferred to Manila and, later, to Cavite, where she stayed for 14 years and began to manifest miraculous powers as the patroness of travelers.

From 1648 to 1748, successful trade journeys between Acapulco, Mexico and Manila had one thing in common: The Brown Virgin was on board the galleons. After each trip, her return was celebrated with festivities led by the highest civil and ecclesiastical officials and a fluvial procession along the Pasig River to her shrine in Antipolo, where she would be returned to her altar with pomp and ceremony.

In a solemn mass on Sept. 8, 1823, Manila Archbishop Miguel Poblete conferred the title of Nuestra Señora dela Paz y Buen Viaje upon the Virgin of Antipolo.

On Nov. 12, 1926, the Virgin was brought to Luneta via a fluvial procession for her canonical coronation, where she was invested with a crown and aureole of gold and diamonds by Archbishop Michael O’Doherty.

When the Japanese Occupation forced Antipolo townsfolk to flee for their lives, they took their beloved Brown Virgin with them, packed in a drum to keep her safe from the rigors of traversing the mountain-side as the Japanese Imperial Army laid waste to the town.

The townsfolk carrying her were spared from hostile actions by the enemy, though they traveled in the midst of Japanese army patrols who had orders to shoot fleeing villagers on sight.

A rescue party at the town of Pasig (now a city) sent by the Archbishop of Manila carried Nuestra Señora dela Paz y Buen Viaje to a house on R. Hidalgo St. and from there she was brought to the Quiapo church, where the shrine of the Black Nazarene, also brought to Manila from Acapulco, is located to this day.

During the Second World War, the original cathedral was destroyed by bombs and nothing was left in the smoldering ruin except for the image of the Virgin of Antipolo and the statue of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, which stood out like beacons of hope among the rubble, cinders and ash left by the bombings.

Marcela Bautista dresses the Virgin of Antipolo, a job she took over from her mother.

"My mother became a devotee of the Virgin of Antipolo after the Virgin healed her," Marcelo says. "My mother was a sickly woman who suffered from many ailments and the Virgin cured her. In gratitude, my mother showed her devotion and thanks by dressing the Virgin."

So strict a guardian is Marcelo that she does not permit anybody else in the Brown Virgin’s chamber when the image’s clothing is changed–not even men of the cloth.

"There was one time when a priest asked if he could watch me dressing the Virgin," Marcelo says with a wry smile. "I would not let him. I told him: ‘Father, if your mother was getting dressed, would you watch her?’ He left the room."

Marcelo’s protectiveness of the image reflects the filial piety Filipinos give to their parents, especially mothers. "She may be made of wood, but she is like a mother to me and I will protect her privacy as any child would protect the privacy of her mother."

Marcelo and her sister prepare the image for its many parades and appearances. They select the image’s attire from a collection of hundreds of dresses and mantillas, from a veritable treasure chest of gold jewelry inlaid with gems, all donated by people whose lives the Brown Virgin had touched and whose prayers were answered.

Marcelo never married, nor did her sister, and they have devoted their lives to caring for the Virgin of Antipolo. Despite her single-blessedness, Marcelo says the Brown Virgin "has sent me my anak-anakan (adopted children), who have brought me many blessings as well."

"I want for nothing and I live a simple, happy life caring for Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage," she says happily.

So what, exactly, is it that draws Filipinos to the Brown Virgin? Perhaps it is the fact that she is brown, like most of the people who come to pray at her shrine.

Unlike most renderings and sculptures of the Virgin Mary, Our Lady of Antipolo sports a dark complexion, tightly curled hair, slightly thicker lips and a wide nose with flared nostrils–pretty much what many Mexicans and Filipinos look like.

It is an image that eerily seems to be carved out of our flesh and our ancient culture and it is probably this that makes her more approachable–she’s a traveling "kababayan" who came across perilous seas to make her place among us.